Smoke and Mirrors
by Ryder85
Summary: Jack suspects Ethan did much more to Charlie than simply hang him, but finding out what prooves difficult when Charlie is less than co-operative. Please read and review.


A/N: I wrote this before Whatever the Case May Be, so please disregard everything that happened in that episode. This takes place about a day after Jack and Kate found Charlie. I have a lot of ideas for this story, and none of them are daffidols and butterflies. So if you don't like dark, dramatic pieces please turn back now.

On a side note, I had my first peanut butter sandwich in quite some time after remembering that fabulous moment between Charlie and Claire.

* * *

He'd never been to the ocean before.

Not before the crash, anyway, if that much wasn't obvious. Not during his happy, unfairly short childhood; certainly not in the years following his parents death when him and Liam had been bumped from foster home to foster home more times than he could count; not even in that brief time with Driveshaft, when it seemed like their music took them to every corner of the Earth.

It was ironic to think that although he had never been before, now he might never leave.

Charlie blinked lathargically in the face of the intense noonday sun. He could feel it's rays seeping into his skin, stealing away his moisture and leaving his skin red and blotchy. But still he didn't move. Instead he watched the others apply sparing coats of sun screen, in a laughable attempt to stretch their supply. He watched the waves come onto the sand, and wash back out to sea, taking with them the footprints of the few fishermen that had waded out to the shallow waters earlier that day. He watched the other survivors watch him, could see the wonder, and in some cases worry present in their faces. Not worry for him, but for themselves. Worry that what had happened to him might happen to them. But still he didn't move. Moving would cause pain, and pain would remind him of what had happened to her. What had happened to him. What still might be happening to her. And that was more unbearable than a sunburn.

He could feel the doctor's stare boring a hole in his back. He felt more like a tiny bug under a microscope than a man. He was grateful for all that Jack had done in an attempt to bring him back, because as his mother used to tell him gratitude was important. So he ignored the heavy bruising covering his chest from the CPR attempts. He ignored the way everyone's gaze lingered on him as they passed, like he was a modern day Lazurus. He tried to ignore the memories that crashed around in his head, causing more damage than their own plane had. He'd told Jack and Kate that he didn't remember anything, and while it wasn't exactly truth, it wasn't wholey a lie either. He did remember. Bits and pieces that woke him from whatever light sleep he'd managed to grab, leaving him struggling for breath and shaking like a leaf. Nothing that would help her, either find out where he had taken her, or what he planned to do to her and her baby. Just enough for him to wish that maybe Jack had been a few minutes later in finding him. Just enough to wish that maybe the CPR hadn't been successful. Such thoughts went against his religion, the faith he had been partially raised in. But that faith didn't seem to matter on this island. A fat lot of good it had done him, anyway.

"Hi Charlie."

There was movement in front of him, and the sun was blocked by a face. Back lighting was too strong to tell, but judging by the heavy breathing and tongue lagging Charlie could hear, it was the boy. Walt, Charlie was pretty sure his name was, with Vincent the labrador retriever faithfully by his side. It was odd that he remembered the dog's name instantly, but had to work to recall the name of the owner. Walt moved, flopped down bonelesly next to Charlie, and the sun flooded his senses once more. The dog stretched out between them, resting his chin on the toe of Charlie's shoe.

"How's your throat?"

Another place, _another lifetime, _Charlie would've been mortified to be worried over by a child. A blush would've crawled up his neck, colouring his cheeks a bright red and eventually making its way to his ears. He no longer cared in the same way. While he refrained from responding, he was touched deeply by the boy's concern, touched that of all the people on the beach, the youngest had been the first to come forward. The others avoided him, studied him from afar, but avoided contact as if they worried his new mute state was contagious, like the flu bug, or something.

Vincent raised his head then; his tongue created a long, slobbery swipe from his wrist to his elbow.

Walt laughed, a sweet, innocent sound that Charlie suddenly wished he could bottle up and open when he found himself floundering in festering memories. "He likes you!"

While intellectually, Charlie knew that the dog was only responding to the salt his body was exuding with sweat, his lips twitched in some resemblance of a smile nonetheless. Walt seemed to notice this reaction, and patted the dog enthusiastically.

"Vincent was gonna be a seeing eye dog, ya know,"he explained, rubbing his thumb over the soft, velvet fur covering the dog's ears. "He had a seizure once, though. So they couldn't let him help blind people. You know, in case he had a seizure when they were crossing the road, or something." The dog licked Walt's hand, and the boy's smile nearly dripped with pride. "He still knows all the commands, though. He won't let me cross the street without looking both ways first."

He fell silent for a moment, scraping away with his fingernails at a clump of dirt that clung stubbornly to the dog's fur. "There aren't any roads here, so I guess that doesn't really matter anymore."

A group of people returning from a trip to the caves to retrieve water breached the tree line, and Charlie noticed the boy's father among them. He watched the older man search the beach with his eyes after assuredly not finding his son where he had told the boy to wait. After a few minutes, he located Walt and set towards them in a hurried gate that wasn't warranted by the situation.

"Walt!"the engineer cried as soon as he was in acceptable hearing range. "I told you wait over there, man!" He gestured vaguely over his shoulder to a different, non-discript part of the beach. Charlie pondered for a moment what was so special about the spot Michael had chosen, but gave up when he decided it was probably because there wasn't a speechless, washed out ex-bass player inhabiting it.

"I was just sitting with Charlie,"Walt tried to explain, although his voice had risen several octaves in the sort of hysterical tone children took on when they knew an explanation would not suffice, but tried valiantly anyway. He stood up, and clutched the dog's leash tightly in his fists.

"I told you to leave him alone. He doesn't need to be bothered by some kid and his dog,"Michael scolded, putting his hand authoritatively on the boy's shoulder.

Charlie blinked slowly, and turned to look up at the man who even when he was standing towered over him. "It's alright. We were just talking." His voice was hoarse from ill-use, and the abuse his throat and neck had suffered, but the intention behind his words was clear. Michael's eyebrows rose just noticeably in surprise, but Walt only smiled.

"No, man, you need to worry about getting better. It won't happen again."

He pulled his son away with him, and Charlie could do nothing but watch them go and sigh. As seemed to be the motto in his life, nothing good could last, no matter how small or insignificant. Though the boy's visit hadn't been insignificant. He was the first person to attempt a normal conversation with him since Kate and Jack had brought him back to camp the day before yesterday. The only one on the whole island who didn't seem to care what he remembered.

A figure appeared next to him as nothing but a shadow in his peripheral vision, and he started as a bottle of water was dropped in the sand at his feet.

"You haven't eaten all day, have you?"

Charlie didn't need to look up to know who his visitor was. Jack and Kate were the ones who hounded him about eating and drinking and sleeping, and the voice that spoke to him was definitely not female. Jack lowered himself to sit down next to the younger man, holding a couple of small apples in one hand, and a piece of cooked boar's meat wrapped in a large banana leaf in the other.

"Charlie, you need to eat. And me and Kate aren't always going to be around to make sure you do."

"You planning on going somewhere?"

The words themselves were nearly inaudible, but as the first thing Jack had heard Charlie say since reviving him they hit the doctor like a brick between the eyes. He reached out to touch the other man's shoulder, but he gave no further response. As had been the case during the past day and a half, Charlie only started to eat mechanically when Jack shoved the ripe apple into his hand, and closed his fingers around it.

"No, not really. But you never know what's going to happen."

Charlie chuckled softly at that, but when he looked back out to the water, his eyes seemed to lose focus, and Jack knew he had lost him. The window for communicating with the younger man was growing slowly as time went by, but not nearly as quickly as he had hoped. While he certainly wasn't a psychiatrist, and having never been quite literally brought back from the dead, Jack couldn't be sure how Charlie's mind had been affected. It did seem to him, however, that his fragile state was worse than the trauma he had endured. Without knowing Charlie much before, though, he couldn't accurately speculate any more than he could fly everyone off this island with his mind. And he knew all to well that they had no hope of finding Claire without his help.

He watched as Charlie's hand lowered slowly until resting in his lap, apple still clenched tightly between his fingers. Either himself or Kate would have to return later, and make sure he consumed the food and water Jack had brought him. Without someone sitting next to him, reminding him to keep going, Charlie had a tendency to lose himself in thought, or memories, or just the nothingness of a damaged mind. Jack couldn't be sure which, but he did know that if the man couldn't feed himself totally, he wasn't going to last long on this island.

The doctor spotted Kate walking towards him from further down the beach. He patted Charlie's shoulder and promised to return before standing and heading towards the dark haired beauty. He wasn't sure where his relationship with Kate stood, or if there even was one. But she had been his closest ally since the first time they met, when he had asked her to sew up his wound. When he told her that they were all given a second chance, and that it didn't matter what any of them had done before, he had meant it. But when she smiled warmly up at him, he couldn't help but wonder what she had been doing in the custody of a U.S. Marshall.

"How's he doing?"she asked, casting a long glance down the beach towards their unmoving charge.

Jack shrugged. "I have no idea. I don't have much experience with psychiatry. His bruises look to be getting better, and the laceration on his neck is healing nicely. I know he hasn't eaten anything, and he looks like he didn't get any sleep last night. But he talked to me today."

Kate's eyes brightened at this news. "What'd he say?"

"'You planning on going somewhere?'"

His attempt at imitation of Charlie's accent was butchery, and Kate tried to hold in her resulting laughter with a hand held over her mouth.

"Something's really not right, Kate."

His serious, deadpan tone silenced her giggles, and she frowned in commiserated worry. "What, you mean other than him being hanged by a deranged psycho who kidnapped his pregnant friend?"

He wisely chose to ignore her sarcasm. "I don't really know what I mean. But I do know that we should be keeping a closer eye on him. I'd like for one of us to stay with him all the time. That way if he snaps out of it, we're ready."

"You don't think that's a bit overkill? I mean, I'm sure he wants to help Claire. He'll remember what happened as soon as he works through whatever it is that happened to him. Won't he?"

Jack sighed heavily, and scrubbed at his face with both hands. "I don't think we can wait for him, Kate. Claire's due date is rapidly approaching, and the thought of her giving birth somewhere on this damn island..."

She noticed the anguish written all over his face, and reached out to gently touch his wrist. "Okay, I get it. I'll take him fruit picking with me later, see if I can't jog some of his memories."

He nodded wearily. "I don't know what we're going to do. There seems to be so many things here out to get us, and we're not even sure what any of them are. It's just so goddam frustrating."

"We'll find her, Jack,"Kate assured. She was simaultaneously touched and troubled by witnessing his moment of fear. She wasn't a fool; she knew Jack was the only one holding all of them together, keeping them safe. There might have been two of them looking out for Charlie, but that left only her to look out for Jack.

TBC


End file.
